


Up To No Good

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: Harry and Draco get caught in a compromising situation while in the Prefect's Bathroom. How will their favorite professor handle it?





	Up To No Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hannah_Suth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_Suth/gifts).



Harry rested his head back against the tile of the Prefect’s tub and let his body sink a few more millimeters into the warm, sweet-scented water. The hands cupping his arse tightened their grip and forced his hips back up. Thankfully, the sinful mouth that he loved so much never broke contact and continued to lick and suck his throbbing cock.

When a nimble finger suddenly strayed from his arse cheek to tease his entrance, Harry let out a needy moan and combed his fingers through the silky locks that floated beneath the foam and bubbles. He gave them a firm tug, signaling his climax was close. The finger penetrated his entrance in response and Harry’s moans morphed into pleasured cries, echoing off the bathroom walls, as his lover happily swallowed every last drop of his orgasm.

Harry’s breathing was coming back to normal and he was enjoying the last few languid licks of his blow job when the bathroom door slammed open, causing him to sit up and hastily gather the thick foam around him. He wrapped his legs around the body that was still underwater, hoping they would get the hint and stay put. Fortunately, they did. Unfortunately, this meant his cock was suddenly left unattended.

Looking up, he was met with the piercing gaze of his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Severus Snape’s glare held an unsettling aura of both anger and glee.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said, slowly as if savoring the moment before he could bring the hammer down on his least favorite student. “Last I checked, you are neither a Prefect nor Head Boy. May I ask why you are out past curfew and using facilities that are out of bounds for students?”

“I’m just trying to ease the pain of today’s match, Professor,” Harry answered, casually skimming his hands over the water at his sides. “After that bludger smashed into my back, Hermione suggested coming in here and using some of the muscle relaxing oils.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, but Harry didn’t so much as blink. He was, of course, bullshitting his way through the conversation, but no longer was he petrified of the Half-Blood Prince’s punishments. He had come to find that, post-war, it was much more satisfying to sit back and nod while the professor tried to be intimidating. Sometimes he would slap on a cheeky smile just to wind the bastard up more.

As it was, in his current situation, Harry was more earnest about getting Snape out of the bathroom without revealing more of his compromising position than he was worried about any consequences.

“Mmm, yes. Why not go to Madam Pomfrey? She can heal bruises in her sleep.”

“I didn’t want to bother her with a silly bruise when she’s been so busy with all those flu patients.”

“How thoughtful of you. Did Miss Granger also prescribe Miss Weasley to help with the pain?”

Harry’s brows knitted together in confusion as he asked, “Ginny?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Ginevra Weasley.”

“No, sir. I can assure you, Ginny is not here. As far as I’m aware, she’s in her dormitory.”

“So, you’re telling me that if I happen to cast a _Levicorpus_ , I would not pull a redhead from the water?”

“That is correct, sir.” Harry tightened his legs around the firm body that was still between them.

Snape stared at Harry for another long, agonizing minute. Harry silently willed him to just give him detention and bugger off. For a moment it seemed as if he just might get his wish, but then the professor’s lips curved up in a malicious smile and Harry only just glimpsed the subtle wand flick that yanked his partner from his hold, as Snape hissed, “Don’t lie to me.”

Harry was torn between the compulsion to laugh at Snape’s horrified face, and the desperate need to apologize to a naked Draco Malfoy, who now was now hanging upside down, in midair, with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes shooting daggers at his godfather. His Bubble-Head Charm was still in place, making it look as though his head was floating in a wibbly fishbowl.

Eyes dancing back and forth between his professor and his boyfriend, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say, or if he should even say anything. Snape stood there, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.

Finally, Harry said, “Technically, Professor, I didn’t lie to you. That is clearly not Ginny Weasley.”

Both Draco and Snape glared at Harry and he shrank back into the water, attempting to hide behind a mound of pink foam.

“You have two minutes to get dressed and get out,” Snape said from between clenched teeth. He slashed his wand through the air and Draco was released from his invisible hold.

By the time Draco came spluttering to the surface, Snape had left the bathroom, slamming the heavy, wooden door behind him.

“For once in your life, could you just come quietly?” Draco snapped.

“You should take it has a compliment. That delightful tongue of yours makes me lose control of all my senses,” Harry said, wading towards the surly blonde. When Draco turned his back and started for the tub steps, Harry called, “Hey, you were the one that promised me the door was locked.”

“Yeah, well, you were naked. It doesn’t count. I’d promise to do ballet with Trelawney at the Halloween Feast if it meant your clothes disappeared.”

Harry caught Draco’s wrist before he could exit the tub and Draco allowed Harry to pull him back into the water. The look on the man’s face was one of exasperation, but the twitching Harry felt against his thigh told him that he could instantly get their steamy moment back, if only they had time.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, peppering kisses along Draco’s granite jawline. “I promise I’ll make this up to you.” He moved to Draco’s neck and gently nipped at the base, causing his boyfriend’s breath to hitch and his own cock to jerk upwards. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re naked.”

Draco grabbed Harry’s chin and thrust it up so the only thing Harry could look at was a pair of beautiful silver eyes.

“Promise me anything I want?”

“Anything,” Harry whispered.

“Excellent.” He pulled Harry’s face to his for a bruising kiss just as Snape pounded on the door, shouting, “One minute!” Draco let out a growl and bit Harry’s lower lip. “Impatient twat. Let’s go before he has a stroke. Or worse, comes back in.”

Harry finally let Draco go, but didn’t follow him out of the tub. He hung back and admired the beautiful, taunt view that was sauntering away from him. He unabashedly stared as the blonde pulled on his pants and trousers before cloaking his torso in a long-sleeved, black shirt.

“Hey,” Harry called when Draco turned around and Harry saw The Clash written on the front.

“Yes. It looks better on me,” Draco answered, brushing his damp locks from his face. “Get your ass out so we can get rid of godfather dearest out there.”

Harry let out an exasperated sigh and climbed out of the tub. After a quick drying spell and hastily throwing on his clothes, he followed Draco out the door where they were met by Snape’s dour face.

“Headmistress’ office, now,” Snape ordered. Before Draco or Harry could say anything, the professor abruptly turned and strode up the corridor. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry bit back a laugh as he nudged his boyfriend forward.

As they followed in Snape’s wake, Draco leaned over and whispered, “It appears as though someone missed our memo.”

“Something tells me Lucius hasn’t been shouting the news from the manor top.”

Neither of them were really publicizing their relationship. Aside from a few friends and Draco’s parents, they weren’t ready to let it be known to everyone, especially the newspapers Both men had had enough of the press for one lifetime. Escaping cameras and reporters was the main reason they had both returned to Hogwarts and what had led to them getting together in the first place.

* * *

After the war, Harry was in and out of the Ministry so much and being hounded by the press at every turn, he had taken to sneaking in and out using his invisibility cloak. Paranoia was still rampant so the only way in and out of the Ministry was through guarded Floos and one designated Apparition point.

Harry had just finished a particularly long and grueling meeting with Kingsley and was looking forward to getting back to Grimmauld Place so he could have dinner and fall over. Slipping under the guise of his cloak, Harry stepped off the lift and started to make a beeline for the Apparition point. His attention was diverted by the rapid clicking of cameras and flashing lights.

Draco Malfoy was leaving a courtroom and he was being swarmed by reporters and photographers. Harry could see that he was trying his best to keep his composure, but there was a slight twitch about him that said Draco’s patience was draining quickly.

Without thinking, Harry pushed his way through the mass of witches and wizards and grabbed Draco by the upper arm, pulling him along to the Apparition point. At the final second, Harry dropped the hood of the cloak, just long enough for the guard to see his face before apparating himself and Draco to Grimmauld Place.

The curtains on Walburga Black’s portrait swung open before the echo of the apparition had faded from the front hall. Her tyrannical screams were cut short as Harry flicked his wand and sent the curtains crashing together once more.

“What the fuck was that about, Potter?” Draco shouted.

“One of your ancient relatives that I can’t get off the damn wall,” Harry said as he descended the stairs to the kitchen.

“I’m not that talking about that old hag,” Draco called, stomping down after him.

Before Harry could respond, another crack sounded and the house-elf, Kreacher, stood in front of him.

“Master Potter has returned,” Kreacher croaked with a bow. “And with the disgraced Malfoy, I see,” he muttered, side-eyeing Draco.

“Not disgraced, just a little disgruntled,” Harry said, tossing his cloak over the back of a kitchen chair. “Do we have any Firewhiskey?”

“Kreacher got a new bottle last week. Would Master like to have it in the study with his dinner?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Enough for two, just in case, please.”

Kreacher nodded and disappeared again with a crack. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Draco still standing at the base of the steps, looking as though he was about two seconds from unleashing the anger he had been holding back.

Taking off his glasses, Harry scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “It appeared as though you were about two shutter clicks away from burying your fist in a journalist’s face. I thought I would save you a couple hundred Galleons and another trial.”

“And you brought me to this dump?”

“It’s a work in progress, just like the rest of us.” Harry grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. He lit a fire in the grate and motioned to Draco. “I know how your sentencing went and thought you might need a place to get away to. If you want to leave, the Floo is functioning, but feel free to stay as long as you need to. There’s food and whiskey waiting on the second floor if you’re hungry.”

Harry maneuvered past Draco and started back up the stairs to the study. He had been staying at Grimmauld place since the war ended, but he hadn’t done much to fix it up. Ron and Hermione had helped him fix up the dark and dingy study and one night Harry had sorted out Sirius’s room. Other than that, Mrs. Black’s bigoted portrait still shouted insults and there were still gross elf heads hanging on the wall. Hermione had tried to unstick them all, but nothing had worked, so Harry threw dusty sheets over the heads and kept the portrait’s curtains tightly shut.

As promised, a new bottle of Firewhiskey was set beside a steaming steak and kidney pie, a basket of rolls, and tray of treacle tart. Since Harry had formally taken over the former Black residence, Kreacher had been much more amiable and cooperative.

Harry filled two tumblers with the amber liquid and turned just as Draco entered the room.

“Why do you keep those hideous things on the wall?” Draco asked, standing in the doorway.

“You mean those quaint decapitated house elves?” Harry said, taking a slow sip of his drink. He savored the slow burn for a few seconds before giving a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. “Can’t get ‘em off. Hermione has tried every spell she could think of and nothing has done the trick.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed in thought and then he held out his hand. “Can I see your wand?”

He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded and walked over to Draco, handing over his holly wand. Draco nodded and left the room. Dull thuds followed his footsteps and then from the ground floor a shriek of “Blood traitor!” shook the house. When he reappeared, Draco was carrying the silent and still portrait of the Black matron.

“How did you do that?” Harry asked in awe as he watched Draco toss the painting into the roaring fire.

“It was hung with a familial spell. Lucius must not have scrubbed my name from the family tree yet,” Draco said, handing Harry back his wand. “I vanished those heads, but thought this would be a more satisfying send-off for ol’ Walburga.”

“Brilliant,” Harry laughed, handing Draco a glass of whiskey. “Hungry?”

“Uh, yeah, famished actually.” Draco sat down in a high back chair and silently watched as Harry spooned steak and kidney pie onto a plate. Harry took his plate and sat down on the rug, his back against the old leather sofa, to bask in the soft glow of Mrs. Black’s portrait.

Once Harry had finished with his pie, he picked his drink back up and glanced over at Draco. He was staring at the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his steely grey eyes. It appeared he was lost in thought and took no notice of Harry’s stares.

Harry cleared his throat and asked, “So, what are you going to do?”

Draco still didn’t look at him. His jaw clenched as he stood and took his plate to the table and refilled his drink. He downed in one gulp before refilling and replying, “Wasn’t given much of a choice, was I?”

“More of a choice than most others in your shoes.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to end up some bitter invalid like my father so I guess it’s back to Hogwarts I go.” Draco collapsed back into his chair, clutching his glass with both hands. “At least if I go back I won’t have to see him every day and the Ministry will return my wand. I’ll be a social pariah, but I’m used to that by now.”

Harry nodded and looked back at the fire. “I’m going back.”

Draco snorted. “You’re kidding. Why would you do that?”

“I appear to be the opposite of a social pariah.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is hero.”

Harry frowned and shook his head. “Don’t.”

The pair sat in silence, watching the last of the portrait frame get consumed by the fire. Harry levitated two logs into the grate, letting them drop with a satisfying crunch onto the scorched canvas.

“Why are you going back?” Draco finally asked.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and let his head fall back on the sofa. With eyes closed, he answered, “To reclaim some normalcy to my life. I can’t go out anywhere without having a camera shoved in my face, but I don’t want to stay cooped up here with an ancient house elf. I saw how that drove Sirius mad. At least going back to Hogwarts will let me delay reality for a few more months.” He knocked back the last of his drink and dropped the glass at his side. With a heavy sigh, Harry pushed himself to his feet and stretched his arms over his head.

“I’m heading to bed. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. There are plenty of extra rooms and the couch is quite comfy too.” Harry gave Draco a wave and started for the door.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Potter?”

Harry stopped but didn’t look back.

“We’re two sides of the same coin, Draco. I think I understand you more than anyone else at the moment.” He finally turned around and caught Draco’s gaze. “For the record, if you come back to school, you won’t be a pariah to me.”

Draco ended up staying that night and never left. It was awkward at first. Harry gave him space, not knowing if Draco was looking for an escape or companionship. It soon became clear that Draco was in need of the latter as within a day he was seeking Harry out to help him weigh the pros and cons of returning to Hogwarts in September. Harry patiently listened as Draco went back and forth. One day he was determined to never step foot in the castle again and then the next he had done a complete one-eighty and was talking about the supplies he would need to get.

Inspired by Draco’s removal of Mrs. Black’s portrait and the elf heads, Harry busied himself with cleaning and fixing up the rest of Grimmauld Place. With his new roommate's help, Harry was finally able to get The Nobel House of Black feeling less like a creepy museum and more like an actual home.

Much to his surprise, Harry’s relationship with Draco went through some dramatic changes also. It didn’t take long for the awkwardness to fade and a comfortable friendship to set in. Draco moved about the house as if he had lived there all his life and Harry grew accustomed to seeing his face sitting across the table from him at every meal.

He wasn’t sure when his feelings for Draco moved beyond friendship, but one day he realized he was turning down Ron and Hermione’s invites to go out because staying in with Draco was more appealing. And the thought of Draco not returning to Hogwarts with him made him feel empty.

At times it seemed like Draco harbored the same feelings for Harry, but Harry was worried about acting on them. What if Draco didn’t feel the same and they both returned to Hogwarts on worse grounds than when they were first years? He definitely didn’t want that, so he kept his feelings bottled up...until the end of July when he just couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I don’t think I’m going back,” Draco said through a mouthful of eggs. “Everyone hates me--”

“No, they don’t.”

“Even the teachers,” Draco continued.

“The teacher’s don’t hate you,” Harry assured, sipping his tea as he read The Prophet.

“Easy for ‘The Chosen One’ to say,” Draco muttered, stabbing a sausage. “Everyone loves Saint Potter.”

Harry glared across the table but smiled when Draco looked up and winked at him.

“I’m just saying, not everyone is so easy to forgive and forget,” Draco said, standing up and taking his plate to the sink.

“Okay, look,” Harry sighed, putting down the paper and standing up. “I’ve sat back and listened to you go back and forth with this decision, trying to let you come to your own conclusion. Would you like to know what I think you should do?”

“Merlin, yes!” Draco cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Please, tell me what I should do?”

“I think you should go back,” Harry said. Before he could give it a second thought, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Draco’s lips, lingering for just a second before pulling back and whispering, “I think I’d miss you if you didn’t.”

“Wait!” Draco called as Harry walked up the stairs. “You _think_ you’d miss me?!”

* * *

“Bumphing,” Snape said, standing in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmistress’ office. Much to his frustration, the gargoyle remained stationary. “Bumphing,” Snape said again, raising his voice.

“Um, excuse me, sir,” Harry said hesitantly. Snape whirled around with a look on his face that Harry had never seen on another human being’s face. Instinctively he grabbed Draco’s hand, which only exacerbated their professor’s fury. “Sorry, just thought you would like to know that she switched the password this afternoon after a group of first-year Hufflepuffs eavesdropped on her.”

“And what, pray tell, is the new one?” Snape hissed.

“Try Haversacking,” Harry said. Where all of Dumbledore’s passwords had been names of sweets, McGonagall used Quidditch fouls for hers.

Snape gave the correct password and the gargoyle started turning, revealing the spiral staircase that led to McGonagall’s office.

“Maybe we should try Haversacking,” Draco said in a loud, seductive whisper.

Snape froze on the first step and the twitch in his right eye did not go unnoticed. Harry bit his bottom lip and elbowed Draco in the stomach.

At the main office door, Snape rapted three times and it swung open. The three filed in when McGonagall announced, “Enter.” She looked up and narrowed her eyes at Harry and Draco. “Well, this a surprising change to the usual lineup. What is the problem, Severus?”

“I found these two gentlemen in the Prefect’s bathroom, past curfew, and in the middle of sexual intercourse,” Snape shouted, startling the others. His anger dam had evidently burst.

McGonagall slowly took off her glasses and placed them on the desk. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Is this true?”

“Well, technically Headmistress,” Harry started, stepping forward, “we weren’t in the middle of sexual intercourse--”

“You most certainly--”

“Technically we were--”

“If I hear you say technically one more time, I will shove your wand where only Mr. Malfoy dares to venture!” Snape roared.

“Severus!” McGonagall cried, jumping to her feet.

This was Draco’s breaking point. He started laughing hysterically and buried his face in the back of Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, Potter, I’m so glad you talked me into coming back here!” he wheezed.

“You may go, Severus. I’ll take it from here,” McGonagall said, motioning to the door.

“But, Headmistress, really I--”

“Goodnight, Severus.”

Snape glared at Draco and hissed, “What would your father say?”

“I’m pretty sure Lucius is trying to find a way to write me out of his will as we speak,” Draco said.

With one last sneer, Snape turned and stalked out of the office, with Draco chuckling the whole time. Harry gave his boyfriend a quick smack and gestured toward the Headmistress, who now had her gaze fixed on them.

“Honestly,” McGonagall said, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. “As happy as I am to see Slytherins and Gryffindors finally getting along, I would think you two would be smart enough to be more discreet with your frivolities.”

“Sorry, Headmistress,” Draco said, standing up straighter.

“We won’t let it happen again,” Harry said.

“Won’t let what happen again?” McGonagall asked, sitting back down. “Your frivolities or getting caught?”

“Err, the first one?” Harry said slowly.

“Mr. Potter, I am not stupid, nor am I naive. I know full well that my students engage in extracurricular activities that aren’t, should I say, school-sanctioned?” She perched her glasses back on her nose and arranged the parchments on her desk. “I can only hope that they are taking the proper precautions and keeping it all behind closed, _locked_ doors. I’m sure Professor Flitwick will be happy to give you a refresher course on the _Colloportus_ spell if you need.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Harry said with a nod.

“Good. As for punishment…” she trailed off with a sigh. “Next week, after classes, spend an hour or so each day helping Hagrid around the grounds. Try to look miserable while you do.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Draco said.

“Now, I suggest you two retire to your _individual_ dormitories for the evening. Good night.”

Harry and Draco echoed a ‘goodnight’ and promptly left the office. Once the stone gargoyle was back in place, Draco turned to Harry and held out his hand, saying, “You still have that map on you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, pulling the Marauder’s Map from his back pocket. “I really don’t think we should push--”

Draco held a finger up to Harry’s lips. “You promised me anything I wanted.”

“I did,” Harry said defeatedly.

“And what I want more than anything is to see what you look like bent over Snape’s desk,” Draco stated, tapping his wand on the map.

“You know if he catches us again, he’s just going to Avada us both.”

“Worth the risk.”


End file.
